If only she had the strength to see it through. Weary from the struggle, from the constant complaints of the women, and the uncertainty of her own mind, she looked up at Braden.
The sunlight cast dark reddish highlights in his sable hair, and his eyes glowed with that same compelling warmth that had once soothed her when she was just a wee bairn and he a boy. Even now, she remembered the inner feeling of peace his youthful hugs had once given her.
How she wished she could trust him. She needed to trust someone. Even if it was a scandalous rogue with wenching on his mind.
“Tell me, why are you here, and not helping Lochlan to plan his attack against us?”
A deep emotion burned in his eyes, something she couldn’t name. “I’m here to make sure no one kills you in retaliation for your actions.”
Her breath caught at his words, at words she had waited a lifetime to hear. Could it be that after all this time, he might actually have feelings for her?
Dare she even hope for it?
“And why would you do that?” she asked.
“You were always Anghus’s pride. I couldn’t live with myself if I let something happen to you. ‘Tis the least I owe him.”
His words stung her heart more deeply than even she had thought possible.
What were you expecting, an avowal of love? You know better than that, Maggie. You’re far too plain and simple to turn his head.
Her heart broken once again by him, she nodded.
Two days. She had two days left to think of something.
And she would.
Somehow.
Or you’ll pay a dear price.
“Thank you,” she whispered, patting him lightly on the arm. “I’m sure in two days I’ll be needing a guardian.”
“So, you’re going to carry this all the way to Lochlan’s deadline?”
She nodded, wishing she could think of an alternative. But there wasn’t one. No matter how hard it was, she must see it through.
“I have no choice. If I open the doors and let everyone leave, I will be a laughingstock for the rest of my life. Look, there goes that crazy Maggie ingen Blar, who thought she was some great chieftain to lead the women. She led them all right. Right back into their homes where they could be slaughtered and raped in the middle of the night by the MacDouglas and his men.”
He reached for her. “Maggie?—”
“Nay, Braden.” She stepped away from him. “Both of us have the same goal—to save the lives of our brothers.”
She looked up at him, allowing him to see the turmoil in her heart. “But tell me this. If I give in to you and Lochlan, and lead the women home, who’s to say that in the next battle it isn’t you or Ewan who dies? Will Lochlan still feel victorious then? Or you, if it is he or Ewan who is cut down? Where will your precious manhood be when you’re standing over the grave of your brothers?”
Before he could stop her, she left him standing in the middle of the yard, mulling over her words.
Braden watched her as she entered the refectory.
Damn the wench if she wasn’t right. He already knew the pain of losing a brother, and the last thing he wanted was to bury another.
There had to be some other solution to this madness. Something that would allow both Lochlan and Maggie to save face.
Clenching his teeth, Braden crossed the yard to slip through the back door of the kirk and return to the castle. He would go talk to Lochlan. Surely his brother would be more reasonable than Maggie.
If nothing else, he could try and bully Lochlan into a surrender.
After all, he was Braden MacAllister, the unparalleled, sanctified peacekeeper of the family. He’d dealt with his pig-headed brothers all his life. If he could maintain peace between the lot of them, then surely he could settle this petty squabble.
